23 (A Dream in Two Parts)

Night, that old woman,
jabs the sun with a pitchfork,
and dyes the cheesecloth sky blue-violet,
as I sit at the kitchen table,
bending a small piece of wire in hoops.
You come in naked.
No, do it yourself.

I'm a nine-year-old girl,
skipping beside a single hoop of daylight.
I hear your voice.
I start running.
You lift me in your arms.
I holler.
The little girl turns.
My hoop rolls out of sight.
Something warm
seeps through my gown onto my belly.
She never looks back.

© Niada Thompson

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